From Little Seeds Do Apples Grow
by EleanorKate
Summary: Set shortly after Peter & Chummy reunite and she is invited to spend some time on the farm NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

"I've been thinking" Peter suddenly announced as they walked hand in hand along the Dock Road after what had been rather pleasant evening of the cinema and skipping dinner straight to ice cream swimming in strawberry sauce and those wafers that Peter could not bear but Chummy loved.

"Don't wound yourself doing it!" Chummy quipped, squeezing his hand just to make absolutely sure he knew she was teasing him as she could never quite be sure even now. Ever so gently he swung her arm slightly in response, signalling he did and had certainly not taken offence. That was one thing he was intent on working on - her hesitance in speaking for fear of causing offence with most innocuous, but mostly funny, comments.

"You know I have few days off at the end of the month?" he said, counting down the days, hours, minutes to four whole days of getting out of bed without the alarm clock rudely interrupting his peace and not having to suffer Poplar's cold nights as summer slowly turned the corner into autumn.

"Yes", she replied with a sigh, having been utterly and almost beside herself with jealously that he had four whole days to himself and wondering perhaps if she might swop a shift with one of the girls to see if she could have perhaps an afternoon with him.

"Do think Sister Julienne might let you have those days off too?" Peter inquired as the continued to stroll along, thinking the answer would probably be no but the prospect of her company where he was going was worth the question.

"Well we are due to have visitors from Chichester", she began, thinking the possibility through. "More Nuns, but qualified nurses and midwives. Coming up for the experience Sister Evangelina said. I might be able to get _something_. What for?" She was also wondering, perhaps, that he too was considering afternoons off.

"Mum and Dad are going to the farm and they invited me and Mum wondered whether you would like to come too. Dad's going to borrow next door's car to drive us down".

"Really?" To say she was surprised was an understatement.

"Yes really" he reassured. "For the whole four days. You know Mum and Dad like you and I'd like you to meet my aunt and uncle and see the farm too". He was looking forward to going back to a place where, every Summer without fail, he would be taken on holiday.

"Will they mind?" Chummy asked, always conscious that she might be seen as being in the way. It was already very clear how close a family he had, but to suddenly invite this stranger in? Those in jokes she was never included in, those family stories that she could not contribute to.

"Not in the least. Why wouldn't my family want to meet my wife?" The word 'wife' had slipped out inadvertently. There had been _that _proposal and _that_ rejection and since then he had not said word about it anymore and she was too frightened to bring up the subject again. Just to stand in the fields and breathe truly fresh air would be phenomenal.

"Peter…" she started slowing her pace to a stop and his hand slipped from hers as he walked on, not realising.

"I know" he replied, stopping himself a few paces later. "Camilla", he continued, turning so he was facing her and took those two steps back, keeping his voice low so the occasional person that passed them would not hear. "What's been said has been said and what's done has been done and I can't change it yet. I'm just glad you stood up for yourself and we are still here today".

She smiled briefly, her mother having not telephoned or visited since that last time when she had come for tea at Nonnatus again and had witnessed her daughter walking arm in arm with 'The Constable' again; troubles temporarily forgotten until she breathed through her explanation to him that she had not yet told her mother that they were back together.

"You_ know_ how I feel already Camilla and all of that hasn't changed it underneath" he carried on, almost whispering. "All you have to do is say when" he concluded as she nodded again.

"Now come on!" Peter said brightly, taking hold of her hand again. "If I don't have you back by eight there will be no way Sister Julienne will give you the time off, especially not with me!"

He had left her at the top of the steps with a kiss goodbye that did not step over too many boundaries for an early Summer's evening with every intention of popping into his parents on the way back to Empson Street to tell them that he had asked her about coming with them.

"To travel alone with him?" were the first words Sister Julienne uttered after Chummy had politely asked for a moment with the Sister, determined to ask as quickly as possible and to reiterate her invitation, if only to give the Noakes' a quick answer even though it might well be 'no' after all.

"Oh! No Sister! Certainly not" Chummy replied as she settled into her seat in Sister Julienne's office. Travel alone with a man? No Sister would certainly not allow that. "With his parents. His Pa has borrowed a car and he was going to drive us all down there".

"Well if that is the case, and I have no doubt otherwise Nurse Browne, I do feel we will be almost bursting at the seams at the time. I was told there would be three coming up from Chichester but I am now told," the Sister said gesturing with a handwritten note, "that there will now be five joining us for almost two weeks".

"Five?"

"Yes" the Sister replied, actually quite pleased that they would be abundant in numbers for a change. "I am going to have to draft in assistance - namely yours in exchange Nurse Browne and any other volunteers you can personally round up - to make sure all the spare bedrooms are fit for habitation but after that I feel then I can allow you the time".

Chummy smiled. "I will be happy to help. Thank you Sister".

"In fact" Sister Julienne carried on, "I will probably be authorising more afternoons off than ever!"

Chummy positively bounced up the stairs and along the corridor to her room at the very end. She almost made it when Jenny and Trixie shot out of the latter's room and into her path. It was more by luck that judgment that they did not crash into each other.

"What ho girls!" Chummy exclaimed probably too loudly, disconcerted at their sudden appearance.

"We want a word with you" Trixie said taking her by the arm and pulling her into her bedroom, catapulting Chummy ungraciously onto her bed.

"Has he proposed again yet?" Trixie asked, plonking herself down next her. Jenny sat the other side, wondering whether Trixie had a subtle bone in her body after their painstaking discussion as to how they were going to approach the subject just a few minutes before. Chummy had already tearfully confessed all of her rejection of his proposal in the days after her mother's visit and whilst the girls had been free with tissues, hugs and words of sympathy they were also determined to see a change as well in their friend's arrangements if they could help it. If pinning her down was going to do it, then so be it.

"No" Chummy sighed. "One doesn't think he will for a long while yet if he will at all". Even though he had more than indicated, just an hour or so early that all she had to do was tell him she was ready; Chummy herself was never convinced she would have the courage, knowing what might come of it on more of a wider scale. Once she perhaps understood what 'love' was then maybe she would be feel that the future with him was more accessible.

"Are you serious?!" Trixie exclaimed.

"Trixie!" Jenny scolded, gently resting her hand on Chummy's arm. "You two are perfect for each other and we would all like to be dolled up to go to a wedding sooner rather than later".

Chummy looked at both her friends and nodded. "He has invited me to go the farm with him and his parents in a couple of weeks. To meet his aunt and uncle".

"Well that means something surely?" Jenny questioned as Chummy felt Trixie hold onto her other arm. "Has Sister Julienne said you can go?"

"Yes" she replied, happy that she had but still apprehensive regardless. It was meeting new people again.

"A little bit of strength is all you need" Trixie replied. "And if you don't have it, then we're offering it free of charge! You only have to ask".

Chummy always knew, no matter what else was going on in her world, that she could rely on her friends. These were, after all, the only true, real, friends that she had had all her life.

She might be taking them up on the offer though, really quite shortly.


	2. Chapter 2

The telephone sang out crisply in the hallway as Trixie wandered past on what was a bright but chilly morning.

"Nonnatus House, Midwife speaking?" It was almost a mantra.

"Can I speak to Camilla please?" came a familiar voice but with the noise of someone, clearly inebriated, shouting abuse at all and sundry in the background.

_"__Frank, just throw him in cell three to sober up. Book him in when he's less mouthy. It's not like he hasn't been here before!" _she heard as Peter broke off from his telephone call to instruct his younger counterpart.

"Sorry" Peter continued. "Could I speak to her?

"Well I'm afraid she is just extremely busy at the moment. Could I take a message?" Trixie teased, turning back to see her friend up to her elbows in the breakfast dishes and mouthing 'is that Peter?' at her.

"Is she there?" Peter asked, staying polite knowing he had news to tell her sooner rather than later and perhaps more importantly, wanting to get it over with as quickly as he could.

Trixie handed the phone over to her friend. "Your boyfriend…." That sounded so ridiculous. She was 32 for God's sake. Chummy quickly dried her hands and took the phone smiling. Trixie decided it was probably best to leave them to it and wandered back into the sitting room where she found Sister Bernadette and Cynthia deep in conversation over the morning paper doing the crossword.

"Trixie?" the Sister asked seeing her arrive as they were firmly stuck on a clue. "Five letters, a wicker basket used by anglers to hold fish or other prey?"

"Oh that's simple!" she exclaimed, sitting down. "Creel".

The Sister and Cynthia just looked up at her, incredulous she knew as it had truly stumped them.

"Not just a delightfully pretty face you see before you!" she smiled. "My uncle worked as a fishmonger and he taught me all I know!"

Before the two others could comment further, Chummy appeared and flopped down in a chair next to Cynthia.

"What was that about?" Trixie asked. "That smile I saw five minutes ago has turned into a frown" she continued, "and all that has happened is a telephone call".

"Oh its nothing really" Chummy replied, really the mistress of the understatement. "Blasted Sergeant is making Peter work a night shift the evening we were meant to be going to the farm".

"Well you just go the next morning then….." Trixie replied. It seemed obvious.

"No" Chummy replied shaking her head. "Can you see Sister Julienne letting me go without his parents as a chaperone?"

"He's hardly Jack the Ripper and neither of you are children!" Trixie replied, knowing from conversations all the girls had had he had been firmly keeping his hands to himself on their dates. Disappointingly so.

"Sister Julienne is the nearest thing we have to a mother figure Trixie" Sister Bernadette quietly noted. "She does have a responsibility to us all to make sure we come to no harm".

"Especially with your own mother being so far away" Cynthia commented too as all saw the taller girl nod.

"But perhaps ask her", Sister Bernadette carried on. "You never know".

"No" Chummy replied entirely frustrated and disappointed. "I will just tell Peter that it's all too impossible! All too impossible!" She was off again, hearing the telephone ring, before anyone had the chance to contradict her.

An hour later Chummy was about to put her on coat to make her way to clinic when Sister Julienne crossed her path.

"Ah! Nurse, just the person!" she said. "If I may before you go?"

"Yes Sister?" The Sister gestured that Chummy follow her into her office which she duly did, wondering what was going on.

"I believe that your trip may have to be cancelled" Sister Julienne noted as they both sat down.

"Yes Sister" Chummy replied sadly, wondering who had mentioned it or what perhaps the Sister had overheard the conversation in the sitting room. She had not seen her anywhere near but you never know.

"Now, I am aware that I have to endorse this trip and I am also aware that Constable Noakes is a very respectable young man" Sister Julienne started.

"He is" Chummy replied, having no doubt in her mind, especially as he had never pushed her and never placed her any potentially embarrassing situations in all this time yet.

"But…" the Sister continued. "For want of a better phrase, I am your Guardian whilst you are under this roof and you are my responsibility. If I see fit I will refuse permission".

Chummy knew what she meant and it was exactly as Sister Bernadette said. "Yes Sister".

"It is a shame that circumstances have conspired" the Sister noted, as she saw the girl nod sadly. Sister Bernadette had discussed the news with her and she could see that the younger Sister was trying to steer her into letting the Nurse go, being her advocate that she could have no doubts about their sensibilities.

"But I intend to speak to Constable Noakes before I make a decision. Perhaps when you next see him you would suggest that he steps in to see me?" Sister Julienne asked.

"Yes Sister". Now Chummy was just confused but when she saw him, quite by accident, later on that afternoon she delivered the message. Both had quite been sure that he was taking this trip alone.

"Now," Sister Julienne started as Peter sat in front of her in civvies, off shift, feeling it would be quite inappropriate to talk about private issues whilst in uniform. He was nursing a cup of tea delivered to him by Jenny on his arrival.

"It is my understanding that arrangements have altered for your visit to your uncle and aunt" Sister Julienne stated, hands cross on the blotting paper on her desktop, keen to see what the young man might say.

"Yes Sister. We are short so I have to do a night shift". He hadn't told his aunt and uncle yet or his parents for that.

"How long does the train ride take?" Sister Julienne asked, Peter not thinking for a moment that this trip would now come off at all.

Peter thought for a moment, trying to remember his last trip down there, which co-incidentally was by train. "I think its probably a couple of hours at least Sister, three maybe, and then we'll have to get the bus as the farm is about five miles away from the station and maybe a ten minute walk after that down the lanes".

He could see the Sister was digesting the logistics. "I have already made my feelings clear to Nurse Browne that she will have now have no chaperone and if I see fit I will forbid her from travelling".

"Yes Sister".

"How long have we known each other?" the Sister asked.

"Since I joined up Sister. Nearly 8 years". He need not mention that Sister Monica Joan had delivered his brother and another Sister, the long dead Sister Margaret, had delivered him.

"Is it that long?" Sister Julienne mused.

"It is" he replied.

"I will be clear Constable" Sister Julienne enunciated. "So that we are entirely transparent about this journey, what are your intentions towards her?"

"I.." he started. "I intend to ask her to marry me". Sister Julienne nodded, pondering the news. She had not known of the first proposal and Peter did not particularly wish to repeat it but it was the honest truth.

"At least I can see you have behaved honourably towards her and I have to say in all this time I have known you, you have never given me cause to be concerned". In fact, she thought, she only remembered seeing him with one other girl in all this time. "Quite the opposite and you know that if she comes to harm and_ I mean harm in all ways you could care to consider_, I will be answerable to her Father and Mother no doubt".

"She will come to no harm of any kind" he assured her and meant it.

Sister Julienne nodded taking a deep breath. No matter how much she knew in her heart of hearts that both could be trusted, they were young adults, in love as far as she could see and it was inevitable that the relationship would take a turn at some point. That was in fact the crux of it; they were already consenting adults, not silly teenagers and they had their own minds and no doubt a clear knowledge. Several hours alone with a man, and no matter how much the Nurse might protest, she was still of a different class – of different behaviour - to the women in the East End of London. Ultimately, it was a matter of trust and respect and yes, the comfort of marriage had been mentioned. She sighed again, looking him straight in the eyes.

"I have seen no reason to doubt you particularly" she stated. "I will allow it that she travels with you alone on the morning, but you must ask her to telephone me the moment you arrive. I insist on it".

"I will" Peter smiled before he thanked the Sister for her understanding and trust in them both.

"To what we do owe a face like that, Constable?"

Peter's head shot up. It wasn't every day you had what could have been a particularly awkward conversation with a Nun about your girlfriend and he saw Sister Evangelina blocking his path out of Nonnatus.

"Sorry Sister" he replied, plastering on a smile. "No, all's well".

"Well are you staying for tea or just decorating the hallway? Nurse Browne won't be here but we are acceptable company otherwise" Sister Evangelina noted, bustling past him.

"Sorry? Er, no, thank you Sister. When is she back?" he asked, seeing the Sister had disappeared around the corner.

"I do not own a crystal ball Constable and neither do the birthing mothers of Poplar!"

Peter sighed and decided he would leave a message with someone else.


	3. Chapter 3

Sister Julienne was still apprehensive. However, after talking at length with her Sisters and perhaps pushed slightly by Sister Bernadette, she did not retract her decision. Waving them off to the station, she smiled, pleased that she had decided to invest in trust and honour instead than tarnishing both with a suspicion of impropriety with no evidence whatsoever. She did, however remind the Constable that he was to tell her to make that telephone call.

As they sat on the train as it pulled out of the Station, Chummy had taken a seat opposite him in their compartment, empty bar themselves at the moment.

"You can sit next to me y'know" he observed. "I know I'm under orders but I can be trusted if you sit next to me".

Chummy smiled. She hadn't really given Sister Julienne's talk a second thought once they left. "One can't bear travelling backwards" she replied. That was the only reason she was sitting across from him, but with that he stood up and sat next to her, not worried one way or the other.

"See" he said, leaning into her. "You are perfectly safe!"

"Peter, behave" she scolded with a laugh in her voice, deliberately taking his hand as they watched the world go by. Chummy actually felt 'okay'. She trusted him with her life so knew that she would be more than safe to be truly alone with him. He wasn't any of those chaps that she had been forced to sit next to at dinner after dinner, expecting her to be grateful, thankful, she was in their company wondering what they might want from her. He was just the man who had promised to wait for her although she did allow that one theft of a kiss as the train pulled up at their destination.

Lunch was on the table by the time they arrived at Forest Farm and both travellers were hungry beyond measure. Sandwiches they had packed for the train, made carefully by Mrs B, were gone before they hit the outskirts of London and the flask of tea did not last much longer either. He'd told her that they'd need it for the walk from the bus stop to the farm and by jove, he was right as they hauled two suitcases along country lanes and paths, dodging a tractor and a slobbering bull as it sweated, steam rising from its haunches, in a field.

Introductions were done, his parents already having arrived the night before, and Peter's Aunty May herded them upstairs to show them their rooms.

"Right, you son, you are in your usual room and Camilla is up 'ere" she said, gesturing further up the hallway. "You know yer way around this place too well, so Camilla, the bathroom's jus' past your room. You'll 'ave to fiddle with the bedroom door 'andle as its a bit rusty so don' worry yer 'ead if it falls off in yer 'and and vere's a bolt inside fer unexpected visitors". She looked pointedly at her nephew although Chummy completely missed the message.

"Thank you Mrs Waters" she replied smiling.

"Call me May" she replied, "Now freshen up an' come down for lunch".

Peter smiled at Chummy as she walked further up the corridor before he turned backwards in the room he had inhabited so many times since, well frankly, since he was a babe in arms.

"So where were you born?" May asked as they settled down for lunch, Chummy, her telephone call to Sister Julienne made and expecting the third degree from his Aunt. Peter had warned her so on their journey that his Aunt would interrogate her but this time Chummy felt far more relaxed than that first time when his mother was asking the self same questions.

"India" Chummy replied. "Kolkata. Calcutta" she corrected. "My eldest brother was born in Somerset but the rest of us where born in India".

"Rest of us?" His uncle Tom asked, about to put his fork to his lips.

"Yes" Chummy replied, taking a sip of tea. "One has five brothers. All older than me".

"Five?" Tom remarked, pointing the now empty fork in Peter's direction. "You need to watch yerrself son, messin' about wiv a girl wiv five bruvvers!"

"Oh, no!" Chummy exclaimed, forgetting that she need not take the comment seriously. "Between all five of them one doubts they could fight their way out of wet paper bag!"

"So what do they do for a livin'?" May asked.

"Erm…" Chummy started, taking a quick sideways glance at Peter. She never liked talking about her family, especially when she began to talk of her brother's occupations. "Bob and Harry live in Australia. They were in the Army but Bob is a Stockbroker and Harry runs a chain of hotels now. George is in France, Paris, at the moment and he is...well he breeds and races horses. Will lives in Madeira – Mater and Pa retired there after Will married a gel from there; he's an accountant. Jeremy is in Spain – he's an army officer too and Teddy's in…well either London or New York when he feels like it. I don't quite know what he does now, but he used to be in the RAF. I think he just spends money for a living". She finally took a breath.

"So you bein' in the East End was a bit of a novelty for your family ven?" His Uncle Tom could certainly be to the point. What he didn't expect though was the look of the devil from Peter's mother for asking the question.

"I don't know" Chummy replied honestly. "Not for me, certainly not for me, but I haven't asked them otherwise".

"Tell us about growing up in India" Peter's mother started, deliberately diverting the subject. "Tell me about them markets vey 'ad. Bizarres or whatevver ver're called".

"Mrs Noakes?" Chummy asked, seeing his mother in the kitchen filling the sink to wash the dishes. "Would you like a hand?" She was offering from sheer politeness and gratitude for the diversion onto the stalls in the local market laden with all kinds of examples of local craftsmanship and materials.

"What 'ave I tol' you about callin' me Renee? An' yes if you don' mind. God knows where the men have run off to and May's puttin' ve table away".

Chummy smiled and took up a post next to her to dry.

"Vat Mrs Noakes business is far too fussy for me as y'know already an' if you're goin' to be me only daughter in law, I fink you need to call me by me firs' name all ve time", she said shaking the water from a tea cup.

Chummy looked down at the cup that had been put on the side, ready to be dried and blushed bright red. It was that subject again. Everyone seemed to expect them to marry, except perhaps the possible bride herself.

"Oh dear" Irene noted seeing her face. "'ave I said somefink out of turn?"

"No, no" Chummy replied, shaking her head, taking up a tea towel. "He did…he did mention it".

"As in proposed as a girl should expec' or jus' 'mentioned it'?" Irene asked, probing away having hoped that this girl might just be the one after all this time. .

"No, he er.." Chummy replied trying to keep her voice low so no-one else would here. "He as good as properly asked, not one knee or anything, but…" She had started to ramble out of nerves. She also knew he had not told her mother they had separated, albeit temporarily.

"Well, if he ever gets round to asking you proper, and make sure he does do it proper" she said, gesturing briefly to make a point, "I look forward to welcomin' you to ve family".

"Thank you" Chummy whispered quietly, taking up a dish, thinking it was the only suitable or polite thing to say.

"An' you are comin' to us for Christmas?" Irene asked. "It's bin years since its bin anyone more ven Bill and me until ve boy comes off shift".

"If you don't mind?" Chummy asked, knowing already she had Christmas Day off and knowing that she would certainly not be receiving an invitation from her family. To be truthful, it had not been a discussion they had had either but then again, his mother had pipped him at the post.

"Of course not" Irene replied, harbouring thoughts of a few years down the line when she might just finally have grandchildren too. "And if he doesn't get round to gettin' down on 'is knee by Christmas, jus' tell me and I'll does it for 'im".

Chummy smiled as she put another dry dish down just believing that Irene would do it too. How she wished she could be so confident.


	4. Chapter 4

Chummy lay on the top of the covers. It was too warm to sleep and far too quiet for her liking. So used to the sounds Poplar would produce in the middle of the night and the rushing of bodies around Nonnatus' corridors, but here in the depths of the Kent countryside there was just this stillness and it was disturbing.

Out of the open window there wasn't a breeze to rustle the remaining leaves on the trees and even the cows over in the barn were not making a peep. She closed her eyes; tired and willing sleep, but entirely incapable of falling into the kind of slumber that she wanted and needed for what was going to be busy day tomorrow.

Breathing in deeply Chummy inflated her lungs to the very limit and let the air be released slowly with a sigh. She did it again, three, four times in an effort to lull herself to sleep, concentrate of her breathing and feel her muscles relax. It only worked occasionally, particularly when your ears were permanently open for a knock on the door or a telephone ringing, but it was no good this time. The silence was too loud.

Turning her head to the clock it read half past ten. The whole house had retired early for a purpose; Peter's uncle and aunt knowing that despite their visitors, they still had cows to milk at five o'clock in the morning and eggs to collect. Just next to her room though she suddenly heard the bathroom door shut and feet creep past her own door, just stopping outside.

For ten seconds or so there was more silence before they moved away again. She wondered immediately if it was Peter; even thinking of popping his head around the door, just to say 'goodnight' perhaps? If it was, why did he walk away? The thought arrived unbidden into her mind and set it racing. If that was Peter he walked away. Why? Suddenly, taking the cow by the bells as it were, something took her to standing up and tip toeing across the wooden floorboards and out of the door.

Chummy lifted her hand to the other bedroom door, knocking gently, guessing he was inside as the light was on. She could also hear movement across the creaking floorboards there too.

"Peter?" she whispered, leaning close to the door, hoping the rest of the inhabitants had not heard the knock.

"Hello?" came a voice from the otherside, slightly surprised but welcoming as the door opened. He found her standing apprehensively.

"We've barely been able to have a conversation all day. I just wanted to say goodnight" she said, feeling sheepish standing there in her nightdress and housecoat. The fact he was wearing pyjamas and a dressing gown only made it worse. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on his face.

"Quick! Come in then!" he said waving his hand towards her as he closed the door quietly behind them. She didn't think twice and wasn't worried about her state of undress or his for that matter as she walked in.

The only place she could think of to sit was on the blanket box at the end of his bed as the chair by the window was covered in his discarded jumper, trousers and shirt. He joined her and took her hand.

"Did you just stop outside my door?" she asked, the question burning.

"Yes" he replied, now feeling ever so slightly embarrassed that he had been found out. "I wanted to say goodnight too, but that bolt on that door scrapes like I don't know what when you open it and I thought you might have been asleep".

"The bolt wasn't on" she replied lightly and entirely innocently. "I thought your Aunty May was joking".

"She wasn't you know" he noted, having firmly got the hint from his aunt even though it did make him feel like some kind of predator that couldn't be trusted with his apparent prey.

"Well" Chummy replied, feeling confident. "I don't think I need to put it on so I won't be". She knew deep down she could trust him so it wasn't that as though she needed 'protecting' at all. Besides that, she had been curious to see if he might pay her a visit, even for a little chat in peace or one of those goodnight kisses she was now not so averse too as well.

She saw him smile. "Have you had a good day?" he asked.

"Yes" she beamed. "A lovely day. Your aunt and uncle are so nice and the farm is beautiful".

"Uncle Tom can be a bit blunt" he clarified. "Sorry about the way he was over lunch".

"Its fine Peter" she replied, remembering that look Peter's mother gave his uncle over his comments about her family. "It's nothing new".

He nodded knowing that it was probably the truth. Little snippets of what she would tell him as they sat in darkened corners of the dining rooms or when they went for a walk by the canal, all added up to rather a gloomy picture and he could see why people would wonder what she was doing in Poplar.

"I told you it would be alright though", Peter said having been entirely confident that she would do just perfectly well as she had with his parents. He'd perhaps been joking when he had said they had 'survived' that particular encounter.

"You did and it has been" she concluded having genuinely felt at home despite her jitters with whichever part of his family was near.

Tentatively he reached cross and kissed her, palm winding its way up her cheek.

"Is that alright?" he asked, cautious to cross borders, occasionally resisting grabbing hold of her hand or giving her a brazen kiss, avoiding frightening her away from him. There was so much he knew of her already that made him that way and he needed her too much to take the risk.

She nodded. She did feel like she was about start crying, although she had no idea why. Perhaps it was regret – she might have been his fiancée by now - or perhaps it was just that overwhelming feeling that even now, when it was just the two of them, all seemed right with the world for a change and all the horrible things no longer mattered.

He reached across and kissed her again, this time and as gently as he could pushing her lips apart and she reciprocated in kind. To her surprise, it all felt altogether natural and as he broke the kiss their foreheads touched. Her heart smiled for a moment and for a second wondered why all the gels at school would snigger about kisses like that. There was something quite delightful about it.

"All I want to do is make you happy, Camilla" he emphasised, hand still resting on her cheek.

"I know you do" she whispered back.

"You need to believe that I love you" he said, knowing that was perhaps the biggest hurdle of them all - her realisation that someone would be capable of loving her. "Someone could give me a million diamonds in exchange and I would have to give them back".

Chummy swallowed and felt tears spring to her eyes. But she had hurt him though yet here he was just _still here_ and it took some thinking about.

"Don't you dare cry on me, Mrs Noakes otherwise Mum and Aunty May will have my hide if you have red eyes in the morning!" he joked. "They'll make sure you put the bolt on!"

She laughed through the tears that were threatening. "I'm not Mrs…"

"But you are" he said, resting his hand back on hers. "I don't need a piece of paper to tell me that you and I will be together for the rest of our lives but we will have it one day".

"I thought you might push me away" she replied, honestly. Should she read into his last comment? She was normally so efficient in making mountains out of molehills, but had he just said he still wanted to marry her?

"Why?" he asked

"After everything I've said and done" she replied quietly, toying with the fingers that were wrapped in hers.

"That's gone" he replied bluntly. "Buried. I prefer looking forward".

She shook her head. "You have so much faith".

"Perhaps" he replied with a shrug making sure he caught her eye.

This time she leant across and kissed him and involuntarily his hand fell palm down on her knee as she was buoyed by the obvious love she felt. She didn't notice the contact; far too engrossed in the kiss until Peter realised and gently withdrew his hand.

"See?" he asked. "Am I pushing you away?"

"No" she replied seeing him stand up.

"Come on", he said, holding out his hand. "I'll take you back".

"It's ten yards across the corridor" she protested.

His reply was simple. "Not the point, Camilla".


	5. Chapter 5

"Right", his Uncle said to both Chummy and Peter who were still working their way through a late breakfast, sitting at the table in the kitchen. His parents, aunt and uncle had been up for hours already and were in coats and hats to go out. "There's food in ve fridge, ve water is on an' I expec' when we come back to 'ave all vose apples picked an' washed a' if you can start on ve pears, it'll save yerselves a job tomorra!"

Chummy saw Peter smile out of the corner of her eye. It made her smile too, even though she realised that if they got the apples and pears done today, it would be the potatoes tomorrow. Aunty May had already warned her she would be up for some manual work but she was actually looking forward to it.

"We'll be back ven we are back" May said before pausing, buttoning up her light coat. "Ven vat sister of mine 'as finished preenin' in the mirror" she shouted to Peter's mother who was in the hallway adjusting her hat, "we'll be on us way".

"You knows where we are" his uncle carried on, "but all you need is out in ve back already. Buckets, wheelbarras and you can use vat old baftub to wash 'em in".

"So where _are _they going?" Chummy asked as she tramped across the garden, following Peter down to the apple trees, having slept longer than she had perhaps intended missing out on the days previous orders and the breaking of the news of their jobs for today whilst the rest of the family was out.

"One of Aunty May's friends" he started, glancing back at her a few paces behind, two pails on either arm and him pushing a wheelbarrow. "I don't really know her but she has just come out of Hospital. Apparently they know Mum as well from long before I was born. Anyway, she needs some company and help to get back settled in and Dad and Uncle Tom are there to shift a bed and some furniture downstairs I think Dad said so…." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Doesn't she have any family?" Chummy asked.

"No" Peter replied. "Well not close. One of her sons was killed in the War, one of her daughters is in New Zealand I think and her youngest is in Oakwood".

"Oakwood?" Chummy questioned as they arrived at the edge of the apple orchard, wondering what or where it was.

"Yeah" Peter replied. "The Asylum down in Maidstone".

"Oh right" Chummy didn't know whether to ask any more. Six months on a psychiatric ward in training was enough for her.

"She took her brother's death badly. They were twins and well" he said, resting the wheelbarrow down. "She's not been right in the head since. Tried to slice her neck with a broken bottle a few weeks after and they put her in there. They took part of her brain away and it's done all kinds of things to her. Couldn't tell me her own name and used to carry a doll around all the time with her and pretend to have tea parties all because of that operation. She's older than me" he added.

He remembered Valerie well and the last time he saw her, a year after going into the godforsaken place, he was staring at a child in the guise of an adult; confused and unable to communicate in more than a word or two at a time.

"Mum used to say if Philip and me were ever naughty she would send us to Oakwood" he concluded taking the pails off her and setting them down on the ground in line.

"That's horrible" Chummy replied.

"She never meant it though" he said, truly believing it. The threat always worked without their mother having to follow through with it. "What did your Mum say to you when you were naughty then?" The next door neighbour's kids were told they were going to the borstal and it worked a treat with them too.

"Nothing" Chummy replied bluntly. "She used to ignore me and get the Ayah to punish me, but we were never threatened with something like that!"

"Yes, well, we will never be like that to our children!" he smiled, giving her a quick kiss that bounced from her lips as she was not expecting it before he stepped away back towards the house.

"I'll go back and get the ladders!"

She watched him walk away, moving too quickly for her to comment further but the words settled in her mind and not too uncomfortably either.

The mid morning sun had started to break through the clouds and they had made quite swift work of apple collecting already, the wheelbarrow nicely filling up as it was moved from tree to tree.

"Shall we have a break?" Peter asked from high up on a ladder. His shoulder was aching and he could do with a cold drink.

"I'll go in and get us a drink" she replied. He was up a ladder and she was on the ground picking out the odd rotten apple from the wheelbarrow to go on the compost heap.

"No don't worry", he carried on, getting down. "I know where the stash of biscuits is too". Chummy smiled and threw another apple into the spoiled bucket.

She was boiling hot already and that drink was a very good idea. As he went back again to the house, she brushed specks of dirt off her hands, slightly sticky from one apple that was certainly not fit for consumption putting her nail unceremoniously through the manky bit. Sighing she rested her hands on her hips and inspected their handiwork before her eyes began to wander over the garden and countryside around her. Away to her side, cows trundled around the field, chickens squawked and a cockerel rather ominously stared back at her from behind a low fence. No, she liked this place already. For a moment she almost allowed herself to imagine coming here in years to come and a child the image of Peter running across the grass towards her or feeding the hens with a tiny pair of hands helping her. Why did he have to say that about children?

"There we are!" he announced carrying a tray, a picnic blanket slung over his shoulder interrupting her thoughts. "Water, biscuits, or if you fancy it, lemonade".

"Water!" she gasped, suddenly craving the ice cold liquid. Lemonade would be for her afters.

"Hold this then" he said, passing the tray over so he could lay the blanket on the ground and they sat side by side just breathing in the clear air and taking what they considered to be a well earned rest.

"Another one?" he asked after a while of companionable silence, shaking the jug as she nodded, hearing the half melted ice cubes clink against the glass. She found her cup being taken from her and filled again before it was passed back.

"I planted these trees you know" Peter said proudly as he leant back on his hands.

"Really?" she replied, almost choking on her drink.

"Yes" he retorted, pulling a face. "Don't sound so surprised!"

"All that row" he said, gesturing from where they had stripped the last few trees. "About ten years ago, well, when they were tiny seeds. Germinated in the shed at home and Dad brought them down here and every time I've come down here they've got a bit bigger. I went through a phase of wanting to be a gardener and the exercise helped more than the physiotherapy ever did".

"Is your shoulder alright?" she asked seeing he was trying to flex the joint. "Do you want me to look at it?"

"No" he signed. "I'll have a shower later and see if it eases up".

"Sure?" she asked again, not convinced as he looked in pain.

"Sure" he replied, "but thank you". He slid down so he was lying on his back, no more than used to the limitations his body offered him. "Five minute rest will do me fine and then we start again".

She smiled as she looked at him, eyes shut closed against the mid morning sun, just thinking for a moment how unnervingly perfect life could possibly come to be. He opened one eye catching her looking at him.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing" she replied, far too quickly, breaking his gaze and looking back out towards the house; thoughts running through her mind that she was not sure she could entirely articulate or indeed there were things he might not understand.

"Camilla" he said as she felt his hand touch hers. "What's wrong?"

"No, its nothing really" she insisted. "I was just enjoying the peace".

He didn't believe a word she was saying but for now he would leave it just as it was.


	6. Chapter 6

"Not fancyin' the pub ven Camilla?" came a question from behind her as Chummy sat on the steps that lead into the back garden of the farm house. The night was drawing in but it was still warm enough to sit out, think and breathe in the peace.

Chummy's head shot up to see Peter's mother standing behind her. "No Renee, not tonight".

"Me neiver" her Irene responded, taking up a seat next to her on the steps. Chummy could see she had two glasses in her hand. "Ven Bill and Tom end up ve pub, I always end up carryin' at least one of vem 'ome" she laughed. "Peter an' May can sort em out tonight!"

Chummy smiled. Peter had tried to persuade her to go with him, but she really just did not fancy it even though he had used his best pleading look; her finally acquiescing to going another night to stop that crestfallen look he had on his face.

Irene handed her a glass. "Gin'n 'ome made lemonade" She paused. "If you drinks vat is?"

"I don't normally really" Chummy replied. "We were never really allowed to at home and it doesn't help with night calls!" she joked. Imagine a delivery with a hangover!

"Well you are on 'oliday and under my roof you are allowed" Irene stated emphatically. "Drink up! You'll need it one day if you're goin' to be wed to a Noakes".

Chummy smiled, taking a sip. "Thank you".

"How was your friend?" Chummy asked.

"Oh, not too bad" Irene replied. "She'll be up on 'er feet in a few weeks. It was somefink to do wiv her downstairs bits. Coudnt 'ave a proper talk as there was men around but I'm goin' back up there on me own tomorra as she needs some washin' done and ve place needs a good ol' tidy".

"Do you want any help?" Chummy offered.

"You're doin' enough for us already wiv the land tomorra" Irene replied. "I used to enjoy pickin' apples and spuds but me back don't any more!"

Chummy smiled and stared out into the distance. For a moment there was silence as she watched a black cat stroll happily across the grass and over the brick wall on the other side in one swift jump.

"You and him 'ad a tiff?" Irene asked, feeling something wasn't quite right in the girl's demeanor.

"Peter? No, not at all" Chummy replied. "Quite to the contrary".

"So why you staring out as vo the stars'll give you answers?" She saw the girl hesitate. "It won't go furver van me if you wants to talk".

"He was talking about having children" Chummy said, that sentence burning in her mind for hours now. "I think it just slipped out by accident but he still said it".

"Well vat's a good fing surely?" Irene questioned heart jumping at what she considered to be a most marvellous sign of things to come. "If you're finking of ve future?"

"Well, yes" Chummy hesitated, as it was, but there were so many other problems, perhaps imagined, but problems after all that prevented rational thought about wedding rings and just how much she might fail there too.

"But?" Irene interrupted, taking a sip from her own glass as the cat reappeared and strolled over to them, deciding to take up residence on top of an overturned bucket by Chummy's feet regarding her with bright yellow eyes.

"But" she started, wanting to talk but wondering if someone would listen for a change.

"I 'ave big ears" Irene prompted.

"Oh", Chummy began turning her head towards his mother. "Its just so impossible. I know he loves me and I feel so at ease around him but its all so...so..."

"Frightnin'?" Irene offered.

"Yes" Chummy breathed in response, so happy to admit it to someone at last. She was so terrified of failing him that it was almost easier to simply not start.

"I fought that once." Irene said, thinking back to those early day as a new Mrs Noakes. "I know I made mistakes wiv Bill and my boys but I fink everyfink turned out alright".

"Peter is lovely to me" Chummy stated as the cat rubbed up against her knee affectionately purring away as she tickled its ears.

"I'm glad. You can nevver tell what your like wiv your kids. Billy'n and me aren't perfec' . We married in 'aste if you knows what I mean but I've never repented. I fink if you try an' be perfec' you'll just end up 'ating yourself cos you'll nevver fink you're good enough".

Part of Chummy hated herself already let alone on that long, far too winding road to her ideal of being the perfect daughter, girlfriend, wife or mother. Perfection was the only answer, or so it seemed so far.

"Perfec' can be borin'" Irene noted, trying to impress on the girl that she was being far too hard on herself. "'ave a life vat suits you. I 'ope my boy an' you will be in it togever, but don' do what you fink ovver people want as it'll destroy ya".

Chummy breathed. How she wished this conversation could have happened years ago with other people on the receiving end than her_ boyfriend's_ mother.

"I always fought our May 'ad a perfect life. She came out here to the countryside jus' after she got married, did vis 'ouse up from scratch but May could nevver 'ave children" Irene started. "'ere was I fallin' four times and our May couldn't once".

"Four?" Chummy replied quietly, thinking there had only ever been Peter and his brother.

"I had Peter, ven Philip and ven when Peter was about …." She paused for a second, not really able to remember. "I fink Peter was about seven or eight, I lost two very quickly".

"I'm sorry" Chummy said. She had no idea.

"After all vis time it's quite alright. Vey were very early and Peter and Philip never knew I was havin' anovver one. You never talked about fings like vat an' just got on wiv it" she replied with a sad shrug of her shoulders. "Couple of days best rest and I wos back scrubbin' floors".

"I won't say anything to him" Chummy reassured the older woman.

Irene nodded and smiled. "I'm a patient woman Camilla. It's where Peter gets it. If one day you pair get wed and I 'ave a grandchild or two ven vat will do me fine as vey are. If not, ven I 'ave a daughter I nevver 'ad before".

"Thank you, Renee. Sometimes I don't know what I want" she sighed.

"I know what you _need_s" Irene said. "You _needs_ a muvver".

Chummy nodded, trying not to cry. That was exactly what she needed and the nail had been hit firmly on the head.

"When did you last see 'er?" Irene inquired, having heard things from Peter that had frankly appalled her that one woman with any warm blood in her could treat her daughter so. She knew they were of a different class but a daughter is a daughter after all.

"A few weeks ago" Chummy replied as the cat jumped down and wandered towards Irene for her share of tickles.

"'an before vat?" Irene asked, doing the animal's bidding as it sat on the step leaning against her thigh.

Chummy thought for a while. That time had been those few horrid weeks in July when she almost said goodbye to the one thing she wanted to cling onto the most. "She came to London in the Spring but I didn't see her. I think it was November last year".

Irene bit her tongue from saying something appalling and unbecoming. "An' your Dad?"

"I don't know" Chummy said and Irene could hear the sadness in her voice.

"You know our door will always be open for ya" Irene noted, gently padding her hand. "Come what may you can come to me or vat sister of mine".

Chummy let a tear fall and saw Irene fish into her pocket for a handkerchief. "'ere"

"I'm sorry" Chummy spluttered.

"Stop apologisin' for feelin' somefink normal. You don' need to apologise to me. All I ask is you an' my boy are 'appy, but if he misbehaves don' be afraid to send 'im back to me makes sure you nevver get any trouble out of 'im again."

Chummy laughed this time. "I will".

"An' I will say it again" Irene contained. "Do what you want, not what you fink other people do an' fank you for doing all that fruit today".

"I enjoyed it" she replied, entirely genuinely. It was partly from tiredness that she had declined the visit to the pub as a bath had been waiting and she rather fancied just sitting outside in her own company.

"You wont enjoy those 'taytas tomorra, believe me! Vat Harvester's a nightmare!"


	7. Chapter 7

"How many potatoes do you reckon we picked up today?" Peter asked, kicking soil off his boots against the back step as dusk drew in, losing enough light to make them realise they had to call it a day.

"I picked up!" Chummy retorted as they stepped into the kitchen. "You just drove that bally harvester spitting them out in all directions at me! It was like target practice!"

"I did offer a driving lesson….." he pointed out, leaning down undoing the laces. He had, she had to admit that, but courage failed her at the sight of all those buttons, knowing that his uncle might just not be too happy if the field and its harvest was chewed to pieces by her driving skills.

"Maybe next time" she said turning around to him feeling his hands slide around her waist.

"Peter!" she exclaimed. "I'm covered in earth and bits of potato!"

"So am I" he said quietly, having actually done his fair share of loading potatoes into crates too.

His mother was still out at their friends, aunt and uncle up in the top field and he could see his father engrossed in the paper in the front parlour, he having been doing as much as his leg would let him. Mostly it was washing the rest of the fruit from yesterday.

"So? I don't care" he continued, squeezing her closer, tipping up his face to kiss her slowly as he felt her soil covered hand just rest on his neck. "You go and have a shower first and just call me when its free".

She nodded and smiled before going upstairs to scrub off the soil that had frankly deposited itself everywhere.

Half an hour or so later Peter reappeared downstairs also showered, the house quiet finding her where his father had been asleep, snoozing herself in a single chair. It had been a wearing few days and a thought shot through his mind. It was devilish and she would probably belt him for it, but it would be worthwhile.

"Don' even fink of waking 'er up!" he heard from his side as his mother appeared feeling her arm link in his and his face dropped. She must have arrived back whilst he was in the shower.

"Come an' help me instead" she said, pulling him by the arm into the kitchen. Before him he saw a table full of carefully selected vegetables and fruit. "Vis all needs packin' up as your Dad and Uncle are doing the stall in the market tomorra. Make yerself useful". Peter smiled. He'd done this time and time before, sometimes helped on the stall too.

"Alright" he said, as they set about between them cleaning it all and packing it up into boxes. His father appeared part way through with more crates and scrounged a cup of tea with a kiss from Irene. That's part of what made Peter the way he was; a secure roof over his head, even at thirty two years of age that sanctuary was still there.

"Mum?" Peter asked a while after his father had gone up to bed to read.

"Hmmm?" his mother replied.

"Was Camilla alright last night?" he asked, it having prayed on his mind, even though she seemed a little more chipper out in the fields today.

"Don't know whatcha mean" Irene replied, prepared to keep Chummy's confidence if she had to, piling washed apples into a lined crate.

"Mum" he started again, leaning his hands on the table. "I know she was upset about something".

His mother turned her head towards to him. "She's not upset. Jus' a bit unsure son".

"About?"

Irene shook her head. Men could be stupid sometimes, even her own offspring but she had long realised that their brains were wired up in a different way.

"She wants it all perfec' Peter" she replied. "Finks she 'as to be perfec' for you".

"She doesn't" he responded genuinely. She was more than perfect as she was.

"An if she's not, vat she's failin".

"She'll never be that" Peter said quietly, moving one of the full wooden crates away. He had been devastated when she had refused him, unable to understand at first why but soon realised that she had spent her life trying to be what other people wanted and do what other people thought she should do. By marrying him she risked being flawed at every turn. If she couldn't be what he wanted, she'd be letting him down. When you're always told it, you start to believe it and if, well no, as he wasn't what her family wanted for a husband for their only daughter, she would be deficient regardless. It was a rock and a hard place and he was just seeing it.

"Ven tell 'er for God's sake. Jus' tell her you wants to be wiv 'er. Be _honest_ about it son ". She was hoping he wasn't dim enough to miss that she was trying to tell him to propose, not knowing that the deal had been undone some weeks ago already.

He nodded, looking behind to where she was still in the chair. "No time like the present, I suppose".

"No let 'er sleep. Your aunty and me are goin' into Folkstone tomorrow for a day out and we vere goin' to ask you pair to come wiv us but I fink you two should 'ave the day to yerselves. No orchards, no 'arvesters or potatoes. I'll do you a nice picnic afore we go in ve mornin'".

"Thanks Mum".

Peter stepped out of the bathroom and saw the dim light in her room underneath the door. Tying his dressing gown belt around his waist he tapped on the door hearing her walk across. The door opened and he stepped inside.

"Just wanted to say good night" he said.

"This is a pattern" she joked. Peter looked around himself at the grand total of nowhere to sit, except her bed and decided it wouldn't be the best idea.

"Mum is going to do a picnic for us in the morning" he said, standing aimlessly in the middle of the room.

"I know she told me" she smiled. "Where are we going?"

"I've had an idea where" he replied. "Somewhere where Philip and I used to go all the time. Its not far to walk at all".

"Alright" she agreed.

"Not going to ask where?"

"No" she said. "Surprise me".

He smiled, turning up the corner of his mouth. She sighed loudly wanting to articulate what was in her head.

"I wish I could stay" he whispered, sliding his hand into hers. "Just to sleep here" he added extremely quickly. It would be just divine to lie there, her in his arms. Chummy sighed as he must have read her mind.

"I do too" she replied. He couldn't even stay for ten minutes as his father had just gone into the bathroom that second and probably guessed where his son was and would be flushing him out soon enough.

"One day", he said, staring at their hands.

"One day" she repeated, too looking down at their intertwined fingers.

"Well goodnight then".

"Goodnight" she whispered as she leant across to kiss him. Suddenly all of this didn't seem on one hand so frightening but there were still enormous steps to take.

Trying to hang onto the moment, something inside both of them refused to allow the kiss to dissipate as quickly as before. The only way she knew to respond was to copy him as she had done before, feeling her stomach tighten and the host of butterflies within it begin to dance. She was getting quite used to this now.

She felt his hand rest on her neck not entirely sure the fingertips that had slipped under the collar of her nightdress were intentional or otherwise as they pressed on her pulse point. His little finger was just touching the crucifix that was laid against her skin. He heard her catch her breath and felt a hand in his chest, gently pushing him away.

"I'm going" he announced forcing himself out of the room.

Chummy lay in bed, on top of the covers again, just thinking toying with the stalk of an apple she had taken for supper, twisting and turning it free. Irene was right. She could spend the rest of her life hesitating, worrying, wondering what might happen if she did one thing or the other and regretting the way she didn't take. He'd thought fit to propose once and he was still here, treating her just the same, more affectionate than ever and after everything, it was just a blessing.

The root of it all lay with her and her alone, and she was going to do something about it and if she didn't she was going to lose out more than she had already.

She would start tomorrow with their picnic.


	8. Chapter 8

Peter woke to the sound of rain as it crashed and bounced against the windowpane and sighed loudly.

So much for the picnic now. He had thought of a perfect place just before he dropped off last night; just down by the edge of the stream that ran across the land but now, well, they would probably be sitting in mud and he did not think that Camilla would quite appreciate that.

The clock read eight and he got up swinging his legs over to the side of the bed and indulged in a rather spectacular stretch. 'Must have been all that exercise yesterday' he thought to himself, joints slightly achy but in need of sustenance. He could hear the kettle whistling downstairs.

"Where is everyone?" Peter asked finding only Chummy in the kitchen sitting at the breakfast table, a cup of tea in her hand. "It's nearly ten o'clock Peter they are long gone!"

"Ten?!" he exclaimed. It was only then he realised that the clock in his bedroom must have stopped. He was convinced it was a good two hours earlier.

"So where are we going on our picnic?" Chummy asked, still enthused to go as he walked from the doorway across the small kitchen to the kettle.

"We can't go in this weather" he replied. The sky had not improved between getting up, a trip to the bathroom and making his way downstairs.

"Yes we can" she said simply. "We can go somewhere that's covered up".

"Picnics are meant be outdoors". He had plans and they were being, had been, dashed.

"Well this picnic can be inside" she said. "How about the tree house?"

"Its about to fall down" Peter replied, taking up a chair opposite her. "It was falling down when we were kids so God knows what state its in now". It was indeed a bit forlorn but as there were no little ones in the family that regularly visited, Peter's uncle had never really thought of doing it back up.

Suddenly a thought struck. "I know" he smiled disappearing behind his mug.

"Are you going to tell me then?" she asked, curious.

"No".

They had been left a list of odd jobs, Peter's mother apologising in her scribbled note, as she had intended that they have the day to themselves, but frankly rinsing dishes and a bit of ironing for Chummy and a quick dash to the wood shed to collect logs for the fire and a drive to the local shop to pick up a parcel for his Uncle for Peter were not too taxing.

By the time lunchtime rolled around though the sky had eased slightly but it was still drizzling that was until they decided have their picnic and the Heavens chose that moment to open up to almost apocalyptic effect. Ten steps from the house across the yard and its started.

Chummy loved the rain though, hammering down on the building even though they had tramped across the yard in the rain to his chosen destination of the barn and they were soaking. His soggy jumper and her equally as wet cardigan were draped over a bale of hay beside them. The rain created such an echo but despite the vastness of the building and the fact, whilst they were up in the hayloft they were sharing it with a handful of sheltering cows underneath, it all felt rather cozy.

"What have we got then?" she asked as he opened up the wicker basket.

"Practically everything!" Peter replied seeing the array of sandwiches, fruit, drinks and what look suspiciously like a slice or two of sponge.

Peter closed his eyes with stomach now full, beautiful company and still the sound of rain battering the roof. She was awfully content too as she sat by his side both propped up on bales of hay as she felt her hand being picked up an a kiss placed gently on her palm.

"Peter?" she asked.

"Hmmm?" She could see his eyes were closed and she closed hers too. It almost felt better to say what she needed to say without the risk he could see into her eyes.

"Did you mean what you said the other day?" she said, feeling a little brave; fuelled by the peace in her heart.

"About?" he replied.

"That you wanted a family?" There it was, gone out of her mouth.

"I do" he replied, "and before you say, it, I want a family with you and you alone". He was quite emphatic about the fact. Her natural reaction was to ask why her but bit her tongue.

"Camilla? Look at me?" he pleaded.

She opened her eyes to find him sitting up staring at her. "I know we had a setback and I know you have so much more to be thinking about than just whether you might accept or not, but you decide. You know what I want".

"I do". Despite it all she knew she _wanted_ to give him that family. Whether she _could_ through practicality or circumstance was an entirely different matter so used to putting her own wants aside to please the people she thought she owed that too. Her parents namely. She'd never had a suitor to consider before, at least not one that might want to marry her for her and not for her money. Feeling guilty for refusing him though was not a good enough reason to found a marriage if she now said yes.

"Come here" he said opening up his arms and lying back. She shifted across and lay down next to him, one hand palm down on his chest feeling his arm tighten around her. How nice it was just to be held.

"I could fall asleep" she whispered.

"Well do so" he replied. "We've got nothing else to do today".

"I don't want to waste it" Chummy responded, wanting to savour every moment of this holiday.

All of a sudden underneath them though there was an unholy bang. Peter crawled over to the edge of the hayloft so he could see over into the expanse below to find what few cows were in the barn below them were barging about.

"I'd best let them out" he said, going to walk stooped back to the ladder, letting the herd out as she heard the barn door close again and up the ladder. He lay beside her again.

"Before we were rudely interrupted" he started, "if you want to have a nap, do so".

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all" he replied with smile tapping his shoulder so she could rest her head.

"Are you sure its alright?" she asked referring to his injury.

"Camilla". It was the tone of his voice. He was the only one that said her name like that and it made her insides spin. She smiled sheepishly. "Alright".

She settled down into his grip and the fact that he was rubbing his hand up and down her upper arm was soothing her into sleep quicker than she anticipated and she was out like a light.

A while later, Chummy woke vaguely, feeling him breathing on her neck. Whichever way they had fallen asleep it was now him on her shoulder and his arm draped across her middle, pinning her down. Ever so gently she raised her free arm to look at her watch, noting it was almost four o'clock. Four o'clock! They'd been asleep nearly three hours!

"Peter?" she whispered gently shaking him by the shoulder. She got a grunt in return.

"Wake up!" she continued only to find him bedding down closer to her catching her jaw with a sleepy kiss. "No. Comfy". So that might be what she has to get use to - monosyllabic responses.

"Wake up!" she repeated squeezing the arm across her middle. "Its nearly tea time!"

"It's what?" he mumbled scowling in the process, although the message seemed to be getting through.

"Nearly four. Your family will think we have run off!" she continued, pushing his shoulder to take his weight off her.

"No they won't" he replied, slowly opening his eyes and sitting up. "You've got hay in your hair" he noted.

"One has hay everywhere" she replied, picking up a strand from her hip as he reached across and brushed the top of her head with his fingertips.

"Thank you" she replied.

"Pleasure" he responded leaning down to kiss her. Perhaps as both were half asleep still and for a moment she forgot herself. What was intended on being a simple act of affection leading nowhere escalated as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling his hand that had been resting on her ribs drift up and the first few buttons of her dress being undone.

"Stop" she said, breaking away from the kiss, grabbing hold of his wrist. He shot up as though he had been scalded, now firmly awake and kicking himself.

"Sorry" he apologised immediately.

"No, no, no" she replied frowning as she sat up. "Don't apologise, you did nothing wrong. I…I just…."

"No its fine".

"Its not Peter" she said shaking her head. "You're a human being…"

"Who is also quite patient if you haven't noticed" he replied, trying to catch her eye but she was having none of it.

"How many dates did we have before I even let you kiss me?" She was now sitting up too, staring at her hands.

"A few" he admitted. To be truthful he wasn't counting but she clearly was. "Camilla" he continued, breathing out heavily. "I don't care because when we did, it made it all the better".

"I don't want that any more" she replied. Peter was officially confused for a moment, wondering if she was about to ditch him. "I have held you so far at arms length and I don't like myself for doing it" she said sadly. "I am _32_ years of age. I shouldn't push you away if…"

"If?"

She was silent.

"If?"

_"__Son, are you up there?!"_

Peter almost swore and looked skywards to the roof of the barn. "Yes Dad!" he shouted back.

"Good! Get yer arse down 'ere. Yer muvver's got an early dinner on ve table!" his father shouted from underneath them.

"Yes Dad!" he sighed.

"How did he know we were up here?" Chummy whispered as they heard the barn door bang shut, the conversation forcibly forgotten.

"I used to hide up here with Philip all the time" he said, brushing the hay from his hair now. "First place to look".

"Oh right" she replied, frantically doing up her buttons.

The resolution of their conversation would have to wait. Again.


	9. Chapter 9

"Dad?" Peter asked, seeing his father hanging up his coat in the hallway after returning from a walk.

"Yer?" he replied, brushing off drops of rain from the material and turning to his son.

"Are you going to the pub tonight?" Peter asked, wondering if he might have the house to himself, well himself and Camilla, for a few hours as this conversation had to be concluded, one way or another and he was determined that it would be tonight, firm in his resolution that come what may there would be no more interruptions.

"She bin drivin' you to drink today ven?" his father joked, clapping his son across his back as he walked past.

"No, no" Peter replied lingering in the doorway as he father sat down and took up the newspaper.

"Sit down son" Bill said, folding the newspaper back down, realising that it wasn't going to get read now. "Last time I saw vat face your muvver 'ad caught you wiv your 'ands in the biscuit tin". That might have been a euphemism if his father had known better.

"No don't worry Dad. I'm fine" Peter replied entirely unable to convince his father though that he was.

"No you ain't" Bill continued, pointing at the other chair by the unlit fire. "Sit".

"So are we goin' to see a weddin' one of these days or not?" his father asked seeing his son was not intending on starting the conversation.

"I don't know" Peter replied. He didn't know.

"Vat's no answer" he scolded. "She's a respectable girl wiv money behin' her but she's knockin' around wiv a copper".

"Thanks Dad!" Peter replied sarcastically.

"Wot I mean is" Bill started. "Someone wiv 'er background comin' to ve East End, it's for a reason. 'As to be. Girls of 'er class go to all vem posh places up West not scrabblin' around in 'ouses wiv no lavs or deliverin' babbas in damp tenements".

"Yeah" Peter replied. "Nonnatus. It's Nonnatus. That's the reason".

"Vat might be wot led 'er ver but what's goin' to keep 'er?" he asked.

Peter's head dropped knowing that he had no choice now to tell at least one parent of the events of the last few weeks. "Dad she already refused".

"You wot?" his father replied, not quite sure he had heard correctly.

"She already said no" he repeated. "I asked her to marry me a few weeks ago and she said no".

"Dares I ask why?" his father questioned, wondering what the answer would be. It was not as though he hadn't tried to bring the boy up properly and to respect women.

"Her family. Just like you said. Why_ is_ she hanging around with a copper?"

"Has _she_ said anyfing like that?" Bill asked. Even though he knew little of the girl he could not imagine she had a cruel bone in her body and he could see it plain as day that she loved his son.

"No". To be truthful she hadn't and probably wouldn't but he was not daft enough to know.

"Ven its up to her isn' it? You know yer muvver refused me three times but I jus' refused to bugger off until she said yes".

"Dad she _had_ to say yes to you" Peter replied, knowing the circumstances that led up to his parents marriage from long ago.

"Vat aside vis isn't about 'er family its about you and 'er and worse comes to it, ve pair of you 'ave always got your muvver and me". Peter nodded. "Jus' look" his father pleaded to his son's better nature. "You're still togevver aren't you?"

"Yes". There was no question otherwise.

"Well ven. She'll come to 'er own conclusions ven won't she?"

Peter nodded again.

"Righ' now you've mentioned ve pub, are you comin'?" His father stood up, abandoning his paper in favour of a swift half.

Peter shook his head. He wasn't in the mood and behind him he could hear his aunt and mother chattering as they walked towards the sitting room pleased that they had not heard the conversation as he certainly did not need his mother to know of the refused proposal.

"We're jus' nippin' down to see Liz" Irene said, referring to their friend. "Sounded a bit in ve dumps on ve phone jus' now. Don' suppose one of you could drive us down vere?"

"I'll do it" Peter's father said. "Wuz goin' to go to ve pub but misery 'ere's not 'aving it and Tom's still sorting out vat tractor up at ve neighbours isn't he?"

He saw his sister in law nod. "Well, " she started somewhat cynical. "You knows what 'is mechanical skills are like. 'E'll be up vere all night!"

"I'll drop yous of an' go up giv' 'im a 'and" Bill offered, knowing that between them and the farmer up the road they could probably manage to get the thing going eventually.

"Mum?" Peter asked, just as they were about to leave. "Where's Camilla?"

"'Edding up to her room last time I fink I saws 'ere. Said she 'ad a pain".

The front door closing behind him, Peter made his way upstairs. He did think of perhaps taking up a book and leaving her alone for a while if she had a headache or something, but before he knew it he tapped on the door to her bedroom wondering if they might take a walk instead. There was no answer.

"Camilla?" he asked again, tapping a little louder.

"Come in" she replied, softly. He stepped inside the room to find it devoid of life.

"Camilla?"

"Over here" she said, him trying to locate the disembodied voice, stepping towards the window first seeing her legs.

"Why are you lying on the floor?" Sometimes, at the best of times, she confused him.

"Awful cramp in my back. I think it was being propped up on those bales", she replied, looking up at him from her place on the floor, head on a pillow that she had spirited from the bed.

"I thought you had a headache and I'd caused it. I was going to see if you wanted aspirin".

"I've taken some", she replied. "Well, taken some of Dr Turner's best that he can offer". She pointed up to a brown bottle on the bedside table with the cap off.

"Are they working?" he asked, seeing her shift and test out her muscles, feeling a lot better than before. "I think so".

"I was thinking we might go for a walk but I don't think that's a good idea now" he said, seeing just how uncomfortable she looked.

"Can we just stay here?" she asked, holding out her hand to him as he sat on the floor next to her.

"Have they all gone out again?" she asked having heard the front door close and the babble of voices dissipate into his footsteps up the stairs.

"Yes".

"I've been thinking" she started. "What was being said before, or nearly said" she continued trying not to ramble and get hold of her words. "I know you love me".

"I do".

"And I love you and we have so much to think about that…" she took an enormous breath and raised her hand so he could pull her to sitting. "I have to do what I think is right for me. No-one else".

"Good" he replied, deciding not to get his hopes up but wondering whether there was a step in the right direction.

"If you.." she started managing to her surprise to articulate her decision that she had been mulling over in her mind as she willed the painkillers to work this last quarter of an hour. "If you want to stay here tonight I won't stop you".

He looked at their intertwined hands briefly and shook his head. "Camilla as much as, as much as I want to, want that to happen, I _need _to you know you'll marry me. You're not some cheap..."

"My guardian used to say" she interrupted. "'You have to try them out first deary. Make sure they're up to scratch'" she joked even though it was slightly in vain. "Peter, I need to find out whether I can be capable of being your wife and I've pushed you away for far too long because I've been too frightened. I shouldn't be scared of what you represent and it's not fair to you".

"My mum thought that too. That's why she walked up the aisle out here!" he gestured in front of him, indicating that his mother had been expecting.

"Really?"

"Yeah" he replied, having known the fact for longer than he cared to remember. "Mum and Dad got married on 22 August and I was born on 25 November. Granddad chucked her out the moment they found out so she was living with Dad before they got married too. Well my other grandparents and Dad". He paused. "If you marry me, I don't want you to walk up the aisle like that. Its another thing for your mother to berate you with and I don't want that".

If she ever did say yes then he knew there was that particular hurdle to deal with and he wasn't going to make it worse for the sake of a few weeks more of waiting.

"Its too late for that Peter. Poplar broke the Camel's back. Just Poplar alone. She made that more than clear".

He nodded as they continued to sit on the wooden floor.

"I know whatever I do now, unless she chooses it, it will never be appropriate or suitable so I am going to make some decisions of my own that she can't overturn because by that time it will be far, far too late".

She swallowed nervously. "Peter you are my icing on the cake. I came to Poplar thinking I would here a few months, a year at most. Then I would go to the Mission in Sierra Leone and live out my days there; on my own but I wasn't really bothered about that" she said, pressing home how much she genuinely thought that was the way. "I didn't think and I don't think I've realised until these last few days, that for me to be happy, I have to stop thinking I am going to be alone for the rest of my life and let you as close to me as you can be. Regardless of what other people might think".

She shuffled across to him, ignoring the lingering pain in her back and turned his chin up. What she intended to say dried in her throat just from the look in his eyes. She was going to be more direct about her intentions but thankfully she didn't have to as he had received the missive even though she could see he was still hesitant.

"If I hurt you, you tell me" he said quietly.

"You won't" she replied simply. "I trust you that you will love me instead".

"Camilla, if I..." he stuttered again, until he felt her hand pull him slightly forward, closer to kiss her.

"You won't Peter, believe me, _you won't_".


	10. Chapter 10

It didn't help that you felt conspicuous just by the passing of a few hours.

Finally, finally, finally she was his, and he hers and they were each other's. Peter had woken, in her room, disorientated, sure she had been there when he had woken vaguely a few hours ago, unsure what had disturbed him. Then, now with the dawn peeking through the net curtains, the flood of somewhat pleasant memories assaulted him as he stared at the ceiling stretching out in an empty bed that only he now occupied. Something settled in his heart just at that moment that this was now_ forever_, but quickly he got up knowing that if he was found where frankly he ought not to be, his life would not be worth living.

Seeing she was nowhere to be seen, even at six o'clock in the morning, he found the bathroom light not on and noise downstairs. He washed and dressed quickly and went downstairs finding his mother in the kitchen.

"Where's Camilla?" he asked, only concerned with finding her and just to make sure she was alright. As much as the events of last night were of her inception, he knew her enough to wonder if she might have regretted it. No, regret wasn't the correct word. Perhaps feel as though he would think different of her. Well, he did, but not in the way she might believe.

"An' good mornin' to you as well son" his mother replied sarcastically as she walked across the kitchen.

"Sorry Mum" he replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Good Morning. Where's Camilla?"

His mother tutted as she brought a pan out of the cupboard. "See wheres your loyalty lies now. Out wiv ve 'ens, gettin' eggs".

"Oh right" he said sitting at the breakfast table feeling newly possessive of her.

"Vat's a long face" Irene remarked, going back to the stove to start breakfast. "Got out of ve wrong bed vis mornin'?!"

His head shot up.

"an' vat's a guilty face too!" his mother teased.

"Sorry Mum".

"I was jokin' son" she laughed. "From vat face you'd fink you 'ad somethin' to hide from your muvver".

"No Mum" he lied, relatively sure they had not been rumbled. It didn't help that it was one of those times where there was actually something that _had_ to remain a secret, if only for Camilla's sake, and his mother had just picked an unfortunately provoking mood to be in.

To his side the kitchen back door opened and Chummy walked in, followed by that black cat that nobody seemed to know who owned it sauntering in and sitting under the table.

"Will those do Renee?" she said putting the basket down on the table by Peter, feeling entirely unable to look him in the eye. She wasn't embarrassed, not at all, but she did wonder what was running through his mind as she hadn't managed a word to him since it all happened. Chummy was overcome with conflicting emotion too; knowing that as much as it had been her decision, and it had been, she ought to be feeling guilty or perhaps tormented with shame too. She didn't.

"Wonderful!" his mother said. "Pop vem on the boil whilst I visit ve ladies room…an' keep an eye on vat toast".

Chummy did as she was told waiting to make sure his mother was way out of hearing distance. The pan full of water was already on the stove and the egg timer tipped over before she finally turned around and looked him in the eye for the first time, before walking across the room.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly as she sat next to him, desperate to ask the question.

"Yes", she replied. "Just perfectly wonderful". It was the truth entirely, focused on the future and that future was with him. She knew it now and getting there had not been to bad at all. Overwhelming yes but not something she would ever begin to regret.

Peter smiled out of joy and relief in equal measure, quickly looking behind himself for his mother's location, giving Chummy a quick 'good morning' kiss. She did want to reciprocate but there was that feeling over her shoulders that their behaviour had been more than patent and that someone would know and the consequences to that would be far too much to consider. He could tease as much as he liked about her being a fallen woman as it would not matter to him; he'd get a slap on the back for it. She however, if her mother knew, would receive a slap around the face although, now thinking of it, the little bit of strength she had developed through one night in his bed squashed that feeling of vulnerability down to insignificance for the time being.

"Your Mum wants me to go and see Liz today" she said, squeezing his hand underneath the table.

"Does she?" He couldn't say he was entirely interested.

"Yes. Your mum said she didn't think she was right when she saw her yesterday", Chummy offered, that conversation had not so long ago that Irene felt that her friend did not look too well and a visit from a nurse might do her good.

Peter nodded, then frowned. "There's a doctor in the village though".

"Doesn't want to see him" Chummy replied, keeping her voice low. "Nature of the surgery". His mother had revealed to Camilla that it had been a hysterectomy.

"When are you going?" Peter asked, hoping the visit would be quick.

"About eight she said" Chummy replied. "So we can get her out of bed and get her breakfast". He actually felt disappointed. "But we will be back long before lunchtime" she said "and I feel like a walk".

"That can be done" he replied, just wanting to spend some time alone with her, wanting to have a proper conversation rather than checking every word he said.

"Is that pan on?" they both heard from the hallway as Irene returned, bustling back through the door towards the stove.

"Yes" Chummy responded, extracting her hand from his as they sat side by side. Peter turned his attention to the teapot in front of him on the table as they sat uniformly side by side.

"Good" his mother replied, brushing down her pinny, hearing the door go and post fall onto the mat.

"Go and get that for me son an' can you go an' make sure your Dad's up. 'E was moanin' last night his leg was playin' 'm up after vey were playing wiv tractors!"

Peter slid off his chair and Chummy took a sip of the tea that she had left before she went to visit the hens who had greeted the new face with silent feathery contempt.

"Are you alright petal?" Chummy looked up at his mother's concerned voice.

"Yes" Chummy replied. "Sorry Renee. Was miles away for a moment".

"E'll look after ye, ye know or at least e'll try 'is best to" she offered, still not convinced that her son's apprehensive face was not indicative of trouble.

"I know" Chummy replied with a wistful smile. "You must have been a wonderful mother" she commented, not for the first time wondering what it must have been to grow up in a house like the Noakes', or even for that, any other household except her own.

"I am petal!" Irene joked. "No" she carried on. "'E was born that way. Nuffimk to do wiv me" she concluded before pushing a plate of buttered toast in Chummy's direction.

"Do you need us to do anything today Mum?" Peter asked reappearing with the post and taking up a slice of toast, hoping that once Camilla's nursing duties were over, they could go on their walk.

"Vat was quick. Fought I tol' ya to see if yer Dad was up?" He'd seen his father coming down the stairs and didn't bother.

"E's up!" Bill said, feeling quite spritely as he walked into the kitchen, too stealing a slice of toast and sitting down opposite his son.

"After Camilla's been down to see Liz wiv me" Irene started taking up her conversation with Peter again, "I fink we can spare ye ve rest of ve spuds. Yer uncle's goin to do it".

Peter nodded.

"Why don' you take Camilla down to ve coast? Take ve car" his father offered, entirely oblivious to the atmosphere that his mother had picked up on.

"Do you want to go?" Peter asked her.

"Only if you do" she replied, actually not being too concerned where they went for the day in all truthfullness. She wasn't fancying the fields again but it was looking like it could possibly be a nice day after the downpours of yesterday.

"Well make up yer minds" his father said, starting on the toast.

"Car keys are on ve 'ook by ve door".


	11. Chapter 11

Chummy sat in the passenger seat watching the world go by. Houses and trees flashed passed her, more farmland, until the countryside opened up on their journey to the coast. She was firmly in her own thoughts but for a change those thoughts were, on the whole, ones that were light, positive and full of wonder of what could actually be.

"Have I done something wrong?" Peter asked suddenly, seeing her staring out into space as he tried to concentrate on the road as well as they shot along. He knew he was probably driving too fast but the road was as good as clear and the sooner they got to the coast the better.

"Hmmm?" she replied, realising after a few moments that she was being talked to.

"Are you upset with me?" he asked, looking again quickly as she raised her head and sat up properly. Chummy was confused. "I don't understand".

"You've not said anything to me since we left" he noted. It disconcerted him. He didn't truly know her feelings about last night and whilst he had not and would not be turning her away in the short or long term, nobody else should or could know.

"Oh, no" she replied voice quiet. "I'm not upset with you".

"So why are you away with the fairies?" he asked slowing the car at a junction, looking each way to turn left.

"I was just thinking" she said.

"About?" Peter did not receive a response. "Camilla?" he asked, almost getting a crick in his neck from turning back to her and the back to the road and back again all the time.

"Yesterday" she said quietly. "Last night".

"Oh" Peter replied. "I do suppose..." he started. "I do suppose that we need to think of the consequences". He was meaning a wedding ring, the possibility that she might fall and the finger pointing that might follow if the latter were to transpire and just exactly how irresponsible some might say they had been.

"What consequences?" she added. "There are no consequences." Chummy was not thinking of weddings or indeed babies out of wedlock, but the fact that she could not give a fig in her current mood whether her mother might be horrified or someone might think she was loose. Currently it was all quite marvellous and responsibility did not come into it, particularly as this was a decision she had finally made on her own, freely and happily.

"Oh right okay" he stuttered as they settled into silence again.

"Do you not want to know where we are going then?" Peter asked, looking sideways, seeing her resting her head again against the window.

"Ramsgate" she replied, seeing him turn his head sharply, discovered, and quickly straight back to the road. "There was a sign just back there".

He hadn't spotted it as this road was so familiar now that he did not need a map anymore, although slightly impressed that she was being so observant whilst also seeming to be somewhat melancholy. "Was Mum's friend alright?" he asked, as they flitted from subject to subject. He'd been practically waiting at the door for when she came back from visiting his aunt's friend for them to leave as he was keen to get along with their day.

"No not really", she replied. "I think her wound is looking infected. We did manage to persuade her to see the doctor though". It had actually some talking to get the neighbour to accept the presence of the doctor, although Chummy realised why the local doctor was not a welcome presence when she had telephoned him from the house to request a visit.

_"Nurses, particularly midwives, do not step into this doctor's realm, Miss Browne. I will decide whether a patient ought to be admitted to Hospital or otherwise!"._

She recalled what was quite a horrid conversation as her stomach rumbled audibly; a hazard of an extremely early breakfast. She crossed her arms across her middle to muffle the sound.

"Want to stop off for something to eat?" Peter asked. "I think if I remember rightly there's a pub called the Horse and something about a mile away".

"Yes alright", Chummy replied before she settled back down again and Peter returned to silence and concentration on the road ahead.

"Good Lord! Blast from the past there!" was the first thing Peter heard as they found a table in the pub, sandwiches ordered at the bar. Peter turned around seeing Chummy look up at whoever was standing behind him.

"Don?" he asked, thoroughly surprised to see the face that was staring down at him.

"Of course, who else?!" the man replied, smiling as Peter stood up as they shook each others hands in a warm welcome.

"Camilla" Peter said. "This is my childhood partner in grime Donald Francis. Don this is Camilla".

"Always wondered when he'd bring his missus back here!" Donald said, shaking Chummy's hand. Neither chose to correct him. "Where was my wedding invitation?" he joked, smacking Peter on the back. "Here for long?"

"No just the day", Peter replied as they both sat down.

"Well pass me that napkin" Don said scrawling a telephone number onto the white material with a pen he produced from his inside pocket. "Changed the telephone number a week or two back. If you're after another holiday or a second honeymoon, just give us a bell and you can bunk in with Joanie and me".

He passed the napkin to Peter who put it in his pocket. "Must get on" he said nodding back to a group he had clearly been lunching with. "Pleasure to meet you Camilla".

"You too" she replied, seeing him walk away feeling altogether bombarded by his friend's brief visit.

"How long is it since you've seen him?" Chummy asked as Don walked away,thinking it must be a fair few years.

"When he married Joan. Must be 3 or 4 years ago" Peter replied, thinking that was about right; give or take. "And he always talks that fast; you can never get a word in edgeways!". Chummy smiled as he took her hands again, waiting for their lunch.

"He thought you were my wife" Peter offered after a moment of pause.

"Yes well…" Chummy started.

"You know what I think" Peter whispered, careful no-one could hear their private business.

"You do realise that your Mum said that when you finally got round to it, you had to propose to me properly" Chummy said feeling decidedly forward.

"Oh!" he said, raising his head and an eyebrow at the same time. "So you want me to say it?"

"Yes" she replied brightly, not hesitating or wondering.

"Well I will have to pick my moment!" he said adopting a serious face.

"Peter!"

"What? I have to pick my moment!" he insisted, certainly having no intention of proposing to her quite so publicly. She scowled at him.

"If I get a look like that anymore, you can wait!" he exclaimed before realising. "Sorry! Shouldn't say things like that". She could see the embarrassment on his face for the inopportune comment.

"Peter don't be silly. I know you were joking" she replied, feeling his hands withdraw from hers as the thread of conversation was lost as their lunch arrived and they tucked in.

They had both had too much fresh air as they pulled up to the house after what had been a joyful trip to the seaside where Peter had taken her to his childhood haunts, tramping through the sand and eating ice cream on the promenade without a care in the world. Both wearily closed their respective car doors behind them and walked up the path.

As Peter pushed the front door he realised it was locked. She watched him lean down and tip over an empty plant pot by her feet and produce a brass door key. "They must be out" he said as she nodded. "There'll be a note somewhere" he concluded, turning the key in the lock to a dark, quiet house.

"Peter, here" Chummy said, finding the note easily on the kitchen table and reading it out. "Gone to Hospital with Liz. Doctor Barton admitted her this afternoon. Your uncle's taken us. Bill's up at…where's that?" she asked, unable to read the writing.

"Mum's handwriting is terrible" he said taking the piece of paper. "Greystone" he read. "Greystone Farm. It's about ten miles up the road".

"Oh right" Chummy replied, putting the note back down seeing him walk over to the oven where it was clear that his Aunty May had left their supper warming. Neither were particularly hungry though, just tired and Chummy could not suppress the yawn at all.

"Tell you what" he started. "Go and have a nap and I'll go and make sure the cows are in and everything's ship shape and bring you up a cup of tea".

She smiled sleepily and went upstairs leaving him to it.


	12. Chapter 12

"That was quick!" she noted as she opened the door to him, bearing her a cup of tea and unconsciously letting him in, not thinking twice about it.

"There were no escapees" he replied, referring to the herd of cows who were safely tucked up in the barn. He put the tea down on her bedside table. "I'll leave you to your nap" Peter continued, thinking he might go and sit on the porch for a while.

"Stay with me?" she asked simply. The look on her face told him enough and he didn't need to reply. She slipped off her cardigan and they settled down at the scene of where some may say she faced her downfall just a night ago. Setting her glasses down on the bedside table, she took a healthy sip of tea before lying down.

Chummy felt a kiss pressed to the back of her head as he snuggled to her back feeling her breath in, drowning her lungs in welcome oxygen. His arm was tight around her middle and she was amazed how _safe_ she suddenly felt. A minute or two passed in silence as Chummy's eyes began to drift closed but something was burning in Peter's throat.

"Are you going to marry me?" he asked quietly, deciding that this was the moment. Her eyes flew open, sleep temporarily forgotten, and the devil on her shoulder jumped in first before the angel could even think of responding.

"Your Mum said you had to propose to me properly! One's told you that already!" she replied, hiding her smile. He couldn't see anyway.

"Camilla, turn around". It wasn't really an order but it came out that way. She turned over anyway.

"Are you going to marry me?" he enunciated, the serious look on his face stopping her from adding any more cheek to the conversation. She closed her eyes briefly, a small smile dancing across her lips.

"I suppose so" she replied casually.

She had never seen him smile quite like that before, eyes brightening, reaching across to kiss her.

"I do love you so much. Please remember that" he said, feeling his palm rest on her neck. Looking at him, the connection she had with him was entirely overwhelming and she was on the verge of forgetting herself again. Nothing stopped her progressing their relationship last night and there was very little stopping her now, except perhaps a modicum of self restraint.

"What if the adults come back?" she mumbled through the kiss.

Slightly bewildered he looked at her and nodded in resignation certainly not wishing to be caught out. "You do mean it that you'll marry me though?" he asked apprehensively, it still lingering in his mind of only the immediate past.

"Yes. Regardless" she replied, resolute. "One has no intentions of running away this time".

"Good" he responded, an idea striking. "Do know what I think though? I think we should set a date for the wedding whilst we are here".

"That would be perfect" she replied, wondering on one hand how you even chose a date to get married, although a particular day had sprung to Peter's mind immediately. "24th of September" he said.

"Philip's anniversary?" Chummy asked, recognising the date immediately.

"Yes I want to remember him with something positive" Peter said, wanting to honour his brother with a song of new beginnings and a positive future.

"Next year?" she replied, laying her hand on his chest.

"This" he said.

"That's hardly 8 weeks!" she exclaimed, eyes wide before pausing to run through the calender in her mind. "Its six weeks and two days!"

"Do you mind? I want us to get married as soon as we can". Once he had said it, his enthusiasm was catching and suddenly Chummy had no argument against it.

"Well if you do so do I" she replied getting swept along. "24th September it is. I can speak to Father Williams on Sunday after the service".

He smiled and kissed her, just a small peck on the lips. "I'd come with you but I'm on duty until seven in the evening".

"I don't mind" she responded with a slight shrug of the shoulders. "I can just speak to him after the service and let you know what he says what we have to do. It's enough to organise it, I think" Chummy continued with a worried frown. "We don't want anything extravagant do we?"

"If you do, I do but if you don't then I don't" Peter replied, only thinking of the fact she had said yes. The logistics were something that didn't concern him much.

"I don't" Chummy insisted, the thought of walking down the aisle; all eyes on her was quite horrific even in the immediate joy of their agreement. "Something quiet, not grand. I can ask if the nuns and the girls. They'll all help with the preparations".

"Mum will too" Peter noted. She smiled and kissed him again.

"Stop it!" he teased, raising an eyebrow, and hearing her tut. "Come on, you said you were up here for a nap".

They settled down, Peter pulling a throw over them and quickly fell asleep, wrapped up in each other's arms.

"No, not out ve back" May said as she came into the kitchen, having been in search of her nephew and Chummy since they all returned from the Hospital. "Ve car's vere but Gods knows where ve are!".

"I'll check upstairs" Renee said. "You knows Camilla likes her reading. She might be in her room".

Irene trekked up the stairs, seeing the door to Peter's room wide open and her son nowhere to be seen. "Bloody kids" she muttered under her breath, walking the further ten yards up the corridor to Chummy's room. "If ve've gone out again an' not left a note…."

"Camilla you up 'ere Petal?" Irene asked outside the room, hearing nobody inside. Ever so gently she pushed the door, sticking her head around to find them both, still fast asleep, wrapped up in each other. She sighed loudly. "Little buggers!" she cursed, but gently closing the door behind her not to disturb.

"You needs to speak to 'im Bill" Irene said finding her husband and sister back in the kitchen after she crept away from the room and imparting her news.

"What vor?" Bill replied, putting his tea cup down. "I don'ts see 'ow you findin' 'em fast asleep, fully cloved, means anyfink".

"Unwed" Irene emphasised. "Sharin' a bed. May put 'er in vat room deliberate".

"I did" May replied, also nursing a cup of tea to her sister's side. "Vat bolt 'as a purpose for bein' vere!"

"Reen" his father soothed, using his mother's nickname. "If you wants I'll speak to 'im, but we ain't ones to talk and 'e knows 'e was ve reason you finally said yes to me".

"Well I wants different for vat girl" Irene replied. "'Er farver's monied enuff to make sure Peter nevver sees 'er again and I'm not havvin' vat. For 'im or for 'er. I don' fink she's strong enuff yet to fight vat. The one fing vat girl needs is someone to be 'er muvver and I'm takin' vat on, so 'ave words wiv your son" she concluded with a wave of her finger to her husband, May nodding in agreement to her left.

"I can' force 'im to marry 'er or 'er to marry 'im for vat" Bill replied, knowing only he knew that a proposal had already been rejected. He decided not to tell his wife for now.

"You're 'is farver" she replied. "You can tell 'im".

"E ain't eighteen any more" Bill protested.

"No you're right, an' 'e doesn't know I caught vat Jean girl up in 'is bedroom when 'e was eighteen so you are speakin' to your son!" Irene concluded, vehement that he would be having that conversation come what may.

"Speaking to me about what?" Peter asked, having woken up and leaving Chummy asleep. He had heard voices downstairs, slightly raised and came downstairs to find out was going on, locating his parents and aunt in the kitchen.

"Son" his father said, getting up off his chair. "Off for a walk. You an' me. Come on".

"No need Dad" Peter replied, having actually heard more of the conversation than he was prepared to let on when he had stopped on the stairs to listen in as he had heard his name.

"Oh yes ver is!" his mother replied with a sarcastic laugh as she regarded him standing in the kitchen doorway.

"No, Mum, there is no need at all" Peter insisted.

"Alright ven, go on ven Einstein why is ver no need?" his mother questioned, looking him up and down.

"Because she said yes".


	13. Chapter 13

"An' we'll make sure we are back in good time for Supper!" Irene said as she shot around the sitting room, tidying up around her son.

"Yes Mum" Peter replied, not knowing quite where to look as she whirled around him.

"I was goin' to make a fancy supper as its your last day but wiv vat news of your's las' night, I'll 'ave to get your Aunty May to dust off ve special china!"

Peter smiled. "Where are you going?" he asked, having heard what could only described as whispering between his mother, aunt and Camilla over breakfast this morning and the deathly silence when he walked in. He had caught something about a trip out but that was about it.

"Somewhere" his mother replied, plumping a cushion.

"Mum…." Peter tried in his best persuasive voice.

"Keep that nose of yours out! Vat voice hasn't worked since you wos six" Peter's mother replied, gently tapping him on his belly as she moved past him. "We're goin' out for ve day wiv Camilla an' you can help your Dad an' Uncle doin' whatsever vey want you to do down 'ere".

"Camilla? You ready petal?" she shouted past him to where she could see Chummy.

"One will be in a tiny weeny minute!" Chummy replied from the hallway, appearing buttoning up her coat.

"Right, first job for ye is to give us a lift to ve station" Peter's mother ordered, giving him the keys to the car. As soon as she was out of the way he shot a pleading look at Camilla, wanting to know where she was going.

"I've been sworn to secrecy" she whispered as they walked towards the door.

"Why?" he asked. "All I want to know is where you are going".

"No Peter, I promised" she insisted, perhaps thinking it was slightly unfair.

"Camilla" he said taking her elbow, his mother now out of the front door. "I just want to know where you are so you'll be safe if anything happens".

"It's hardly Timbuktoo Peter!" she exclaiming, knowing of their destination but certainly not what was planned for when they reached there.

"Nevertheless" he replied.

"Don't you dare tell 'im" came his Aunt's voice from behind as she passed between the two of them, taking Chummy by the wrist in the process, pulling her over the step and out to the car. "Not a word I tells ye!"

Peter gave up the ghost and after dropping them all off at the local station, drove back to the farmhouse curious and wondering why or what they wouldn't tell him about their plans for the day.

"Dad?" Peter asked as the three walked across the yard preparing to start work. "Do you know where Mum and Aunty May have taken Camilla?"

"Not a clue son" he replied. "It was like free witches aroun' a cauldron when I gots up vis mornin' and I gots out of ve kitchen as fast as I could!"

Peter smiled. "Even Camilla wouldn't tell me".

"Vat's nuffink new. Jus' you wait until you've bin wed as long as your Mum an' I hav'. Firty two years comin' up son and you'll find you'll be ve last to know every time!" Bill replied.

"Gawd!" Tom started at his brother in law's side. "Firty two? May an' me'll be twenty eight at Christmas. Still", Tom continued as they walked. "I don'ts get girls into trouble so I has to marry vem".

"I'll 'ave you know vat I asked 'is muvver to marry me long before 'e decided to make 'is presence felt" Bill said, intent on defending himself.

"Dad I am here" the product replied, slightly dejected.

"An don' I know it!" Peter's father noted, gently clipping him across the back of the head. "Right" he continued when they stopped a few feet further. "What are we doin' today?"

"So where are we going?" Chummy asked as they sat in the tea rooms that Irene and May knew well, having decided that a cup of tea and a biscuit or two would sustain them for the interim.

"Well" Irene started. "We knows you said vat you don' wan' to get wed wiv much fuss but I jus' fought we could go an' look at dresses an' hats and vat".

"Wot she means is she wants an excuse to buy a new dress an' 'at is what she means" May interjected.

Chummy smiled, although wanting to say that her mother would never allow her to buy off the peg, she kept that to herself as his family were clearly trying to help her and for a moment it was almost stunning. Still though, she thought, some ideas though would be spot on. Even a colour would be nice.

"I fought we'd go to 'amiltons and ven vat departmen' store opposite Woolies" Irene said, memory failing her at the name of the other shop.

"Greens" May offered.

"Vat's it" Irene replied, "'amiltons and ven Greens and ven we can go an' 'ave lunch on the prom an' see where vat takes us for ve afternoon. 'appy wiv vat Camilla?"

Chummy nodded. "That would be first class".

The sun was creeping behind some almost apocalyptic clouds as the three men toiled, and it indeed did feel like toiling, in the fields.

"You's two need a few weeks down 'ere" Tom shouted from across the yard as both Peter and his father were hauling logs to be chopped. "Pair of lily livered townies".

"I needs a rest" his father whispered, hoping his son would join him in plotting a break, massaging his leg the aching having started half an hour or so ago.

"Sit down then" Peter replied, gesturing at the logs in front of him. "I can chop this lot up".

"Ven I'll sit out ve way" his father noted, taking a pace or two back to a garden chair. "You wiv an axe'll be a sight an' I like 'aving an 'ead".

Chummy sat, smiling daftly at her soon to be mother in law as she twirled around in a rather shockingly floral dress in the middle of the department store floor.

"It's too much in't it?" Irene asked, seeing her sister's face and the look of horror that crossed it the moment she stepped out of the changing room to where May and Chummy were taking a seat waiting for her.

"Reen we are 'ere to get some ideas for Camilla 'ere. Not for you" May replied with a smile, not wanting to give an opinion on the dress without causing offence to her sister's choice.

"Typical little sister you our May" Irene said, waving her hand at her sibling. "Always spoilin' it!" She departed into the changing room with a mock flounce.

"ou don' 've sisters do you Camilla?" May asked as they sat side by side as they continued to wait.

"No", Chummy replied shaking her head, having never particularly wondered what it might be like to have a sister, so starved from female influence. "Just brothers".

"'An your muvver's in London?" May asked.

"Yes" she replied. "Or at least I think she still is. She might have gone back to Madeira". In reality, after the last time they had spoken, her mother had not been in touch, so frankly she could be anywhere in the world and Chummy would never know.

"'An she'll come to ve wedding?" May knew what the answer to what would probably be. Irene and Bill had not exactly been backwards in their opinion of Lady Browne's attitude to her daughter over these past few days.

"I don't know" Chummy replied. She didn't. Genuinely.

"Well it'll be a shame if she doesn't to see you off. No muvver should leave her daughter vat way" May said, shaking her head, sharing her sister's views as she saw Chummy nodded, not quite sure what she should be saying.

"Nevver you mind" May said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "Me and Reen will be vere for as long as you like and I'll be sharin' grandma duties whenevver you let me".

"You'll always be welcome under our roof. Both of you" Chummy replied, entirely happy to have either of them to stay whenever they wished.

"Good" May smiled squeezing Chummy's hand again. "I fink if you walk down ve aisle in somefink 'orrific as vat vo" she said gesturing towards the closed curtains of where Irene was now getting dressed again, "ve whole congregation will be blinded for life!"

Chummy laughed. "I was thinking of blue perhaps".

"A pale blue" May noted. "A nice smoky blue or a silvery grey. Ve'll suit your hair. I got married in gold. It was Renee's weddin' dress wiv a few alterations".

"You shared a wedding dress?"

"Oh yes", May replied. "Dad couldn't afford two an' Renee's was kept for me. Ven after vat it was made into a bridesmaid's dress for our John's girl. Its probably fallen to bits by now".

Before Chummy could ask any more in front of them Irene appeared. "Wot's the time?" she asked.

Chummy look at her watch. "Half past twelve".

"Hows about we go an' look in the 'aberdashery upstairs and ven 'ave our lunch?" Irene suggested.

As time wore on in the afternoon, hacking pieces of wood apart armed with an extremely sharp axe was becoming quite therapeutic and Peter had worked his way through enough to keep the farm going for weeks. Bill had had his rest and was back and forth with the wheelbarrow to the wood shed as his brother in law oversaw their employment as temporary farm hands.

At around three o'clock a bottle of ice cold beer was thrust into Peter's hand and for the first time he had the chance to sit down and wonder what Camilla was up to.

"I 'ope vose wimmin will be back in time for dinner" Tom started. "Me stomach's finking me froats cut!"

"Oh!" Bill replied. "Vat's just reminded me. May said if you could get ve best china out of the attic as well".

Tom tutted, taking mouthful of beer. "Don't know why she jus' doesn't keep vat out all ve time. Its any excuse for it to be used!"

"My boy's getting wed finally" Bill pointed out. "Vat's more van a good excuse"

"Vat I'd agree wiv" Tom said, lifting up the half drunk beer bottle. "We needs a toast".

As they stood up, bottles raised, Peter felt his father's hand on his shoulder, his voice low.

"Jus' you take care of her son, vat's all your Mum wants" Bill whispered.

"I intend to Dad".

Peter slithered down in to the baking water, letting it cascade over his face sinking deep under the water level. He closed his eyes and held his breath, immediately hearing the muffled slam of a door downstairs.

"That must be them back" he thought, rising from underneath the bath water now hearing female voices and feet up the stairs and what must have been Camilla's door opening to the side of the bathroom. Quickly he scrubbed off the day and wrapping himself in towel and bathrobe departed the bathroom into the chilly hallway to almost run into his bedroom to get changed the temperature drop so sharp. A few minutes later, almost dressed apart from an unbuttoned shirt there was a knock on the door.

"Peter? Are you in there?" Chummy asked.

"I am!" he shouted back working his way through the shirt buttons and he turned to find her walk in and sit back down on the blanket box, and not bothering with the last few buttons up to the collar, sat down next to her.

"So where did you go?" he asked, hoping she might tell him now.

"Somewhere!" she said, mirroring Irene, seeing him tip his head to the side and raise an eyebrow in question.

"Not good enough" he replied deciding on persuasive techniques instead as he reached across to kiss her, scraping his lips down her jaw and to her neck. Chummy gave up immediately. "It was to look for ideas for a wedding dress for me".

"Oh right" he mumbled.

"Except all that we found was your mother's outfit!" Chummy smiled, them having come back with a far less garish dress and a suitably subdued hat for Irene, although to be fair Chummy had decided on her colour.

Peter smiled and shook his head as he withdrew from her neck. "Speaking of mothers we need to tell yours".

"I know" she replied with a sigh. "Sooner rather than later too" Peter emphasised.

"I know" she sighed again not looking forward to that day at all.

As they stood up ready for supper and as they wandered downstairs to their celebration both knew that the prospect of breaking the news to Lady Browne would form an entirely different story altogether. One they still had to tell.

FIN


End file.
